Maureen's New Job
by Ethiwen
Summary: Maureen has a new job... Olivia in William Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. Will she succeed? Can Joanne help her without ruining her pride? MoJo fluff. BACK FROM HIATUS! COMPLETE!
1. Just Guess!

Maureen's New Job

By: Ethiwen

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT.

Summary: Maureen has a secret…can Joanne guess?

Ships: MoJo--fluffier than fluffy in this chapter.

Author's Notes: Thanks go out to the Maureen to my Joanne, Amanda, who inspired this fic. I thought it'd be fun. Also the first time I've written anything…well…-hot-…so reviews are appreciated. :)

Warnings: Girl on girl action…allusions to sex. Don't read if it bothers you.

Chapter 1--"Just Guess!"

"Pookie!" Joanne heard the door to their apartment door open. Maureen was home. _Well it -was- quiet. _Joanne sighed. She -had- been working.

"Pookie! Pookie, where are you? I have wonderful news!

"I'm on the computer! I'm trying to get some work done. Can it wait?"

Maureen appeared in the doorway to the office, eyes bright with excitement, curls bouncing, and face flushed. "Absolutely -not-!" she squealed, breathless.

Joanne pushed the armless swivel chair away from the desk. This had -better- be good.

Maureen climbed into Joanne's lap, straddling her, placing thigh on thigh, and facing her lover.

"Well," Joanne said trying to ignore the provocative position her girlfriend was now seated in, "what's the news?"

"Three guesses!" Maureen said her eyes glinting mischievously.

"Honeybear, you know I am no good at guessing games…"

"Pookie!" Maureen whined, "Just guess!"

"Okay…umm…you've joined the circus?"

"Wrong!" Maureen giggled. "Guess again!"

"Uh…you're a secret agent in the CIA?" Joanne ventured.

"Nope. Wrong again!" Maureen squealed delightedly. "One more guess!"

"I give up, Mo."

"Pookie! C'mon, guess! You're no fun." she pouted.

"Okay…fine. You found out that you're related to Elvis Presley?"

"No silly. Pookie! Guess for -real-."

"But my first two guesses weren't serious." Joanne protested

"Then this one -has- to be." Maureen retorted.

"Well…what are you going to give me if I guess right?" Joanne teased not expecting an answer. Then she saw Maureen's eyes sparkle. _Uh-oh. Probably shouldn't have asked._ Joanne thought.

"Oooh Pookie!" she laughed. Then she leaned into her girlfriend. "You'll see…" she muttered saucily into her ear.

_Nope, should -not- have asked. _Joanne thought. Now she had the incentive to guess, but lacked the focus to do it. Her attention had shifted from the guessing game to the hot breath on her neck.

"Guess." Maureen whispered insistently before trailing kisses down her lovers chestnut neck.

"Oh God, Maureen…" Joanne moaned softly as she felt Maureen's tongue roll delicately across her collarbone.

"Guess." Maureen commanded quietly.

Joanne was too far gone to guess. She crashed her lips into Maureen's, clashing teeth, and melded their mouths in an urgent, heated kiss. Joanne ran her hand through Maureen's hair, urging her forward to deepen the kiss. Joanne's tongue flicked across Maureen's mouth, demanding entrance.

"Nuh-uh." Maureen pushed her lover away. "No more until you guess."

"Fucking Tease…" Joanne grumbled. "Okay…fine." Joanne closed her eyes, trying to think, but opened them quickly, realizing that what she saw when her eyes were closed was -not- going to help her concentrate.

"Damnit Maureen, you've messed with my head. Give me a clue?" she pleaded.

"Ummm…ok. It has to do…with performing…"

"Maureen, you got a job?"

"Uh-huh!" the diva bounced excitedly. "I got a lead! I'm Olivia in Twelfth Night!"

"Oh, Honeybear! That's wonderful! Shakespeare? Wow, that's such a change for you! I'm proud of you, Mo."

"Thanks Pookie." Maureen got up from where she was seated. After giving her girlfriend a quick peck on the lips, she left the office and started walking down the hall.

"Honeybear? Where are you going?" Joanne asked rather disappointed.

"Well…" Maureen called slyly, "Don't you want the rest of the prize I promised you?"

Joanne smiled, and got up to follow her lover, leaving her work forgotten.


	2. Joanne Plays 'The Fool'

Maureen's New Job

By: Ethiwen

Disclaimer: Still don't own RENT or the characters of said show. It all belongs to the late (and great!) Jonathon Larson. Twelfth Night belongs to Shakespeare.

Summary: Tales of Maureen's new endeavor into Shakespeare.

Ships: MoJo

Warnings: Lesbians--If you have a problem with it your reading the wrong fanfiction…actually, you'd be in the wrong fandom. It's canon!

Spoilers: Maureen loves Joanne, Joanne loves Maureen. Not a rocky relationship fic. Probably won't mention any other characters at all.

Author's Notes: It has been -entirely- too long since I have updated this. I know it, and I apologize. It's one of those things where I had this great inspiration all of a sudden, and just as suddenly it vanished. So now that I've finished Tango Lessons, I'm going to devote my energy to finishing this piece…though I have no idea where I was originally going with this. So we begin another journey to reclaim a plot… (I seem to do that a lot :P) even if it is a menial one. I think this shall be complete after the next chapter. So, three chapters total I think.

For the record, this is also an educational fic. You see, most people mispronounce the simple word 'doth'. No, the 'o' is not pronounced as in 'blonde' or 'long' but rather an 'o' sound as in 'shove' or 'continue'. To see and hear the correct pronunciation go to this website:

go out to the Maureen to my Joanne, Amanda, who inspired this fic.

And thanks to all of the people who have continued to review this and check for updates. I'm sorry it has been dormant for so long.

-------------------

Chapter 2: Joanne Plays The Fool

-------------------

"Pookie! Are you home?" Maureen called throughout the apartment. "Poooooooooookiiiiiiie!"

"I'm in the kitchen, Maureen. I'm baking something for the office party this weekend," Joanne called back.

The diva bounced into the kitchen, full of excitement. "I want to lick the spoon!"

Joanne arched her eyebrow and smiled. "I take it your first rehearsal went well?"

"The best! The director said I have an -excellent- voice for Shakespeare, and the girl that plays Viola is so nice, and The Fool has such a great voice," Maureen gushed.

Joanne laughed warmly. "That's wonderful, Honeybear. I'm so happy for you."

"The -only- problem is we have to have our lines for Act One memorized by next week! It's Shakespearean and they expect us to learn it in a week!" Maureen frowned. "I don't know if I'll be able to do it."

"Of course you will," Joanne smiled. "And whenever I'm not working, I'll help you if you'd like."

"You will?!"

"Yeah. I was a real Shakespeare buff in high school and I took lots of classes on his works in college. I'm sure I'll be able to help if you need it."

"That would be wonderful, Joanne." And the diva bounced out of the room, only to return a minute later, holding a blue binder in her hand.

Joanne placed the cookies she was baking in the oven, before returning her attention to Maureen.

"Maureen, what is that?"

"It's my script," she said flipping through the pages. "You said you'd help. I don't come in until scene five in Act One, though."

"Mo, I didn't-- I said I'd help when I wasn't bus--"she looked at the pout on her lover's face and caved. "Oh…alright."

"Yay! You can play the fool, and we'll start from my first line."

"Maureen, you just got this today, how am I going to help you with your lines? You can't possibly know them yet."

"I don't," she said simply. "We're just going to read it together. I thought I'd read my lines, and you could read everyone else."

Joanne sighed. There was absolutely no point in this, but if it would make Maureen happy…she'd do just about anything.

"Alright. Where do I start?" she asked.

"Oh you don't," Maureen answered. "I do. See here? I say 'Take the fool away' first, then you follow. Okay?"

"Okay."

((Olivia/Maureen))

"Take the fool away."

((Fool/Joanne))

"Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady."

((Olivia/Maureen))

"Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you:

besides, you grow dishonest."

((Fool/Joanne))

"Two faults, Madonna, that drink and good counsel

will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is

the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend

himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if

he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing

that's mended is but patched: virtue that

transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that

amends is but patched with virtue. If that this

simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not,

what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but

calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take

away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away."

((Olivia/Maureen))

"Sir, I bade them take away you."

((Fool/Joanne))

"Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non

facit monachum; that's as much to say as I wear not

motley in my brain. Good Madonna, give me leave to

prove you a fool."

((Olivia/Maureen))

"Can you do it?"

((Fool/Joanne))

"Dexterously, good Madonna."

((Olivia/Maureen))

Make your proof.

((Fool/Joanne))

"I must catechize you for it, Madonna: good my mouse

of virtue, answer me."

((Olivia/Maureen))

"Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof."

((Fool/Joanne))

"Good Madonna, why mournest thou?"

((Olivia/Maureen))

"Good fool, for my brother's death."

((Fool/Joanne))

"I think his soul is in hell, Madonna."

((Olivia/Maureen))

"I know his soul is in heaven, fool."

((Fool/Joanne))

"The more fool, Madonna, to mourn for your brother's

soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen."

((Olivia/Maureen))

"What think you of this fool, Malvolio? Dahth he not mend?"

"Doth," Joanne interjected.

"Don't interrupt me while I'm in character, I need to stay focused!" Maureen whined.

"What think you of this fool, Malvolio? Dahth he not mend?" she repeated.

"Doth."

"What are you saying Joanne? I am in the middle of a scene here!"

"It's doth. You pronounce it like there's an 'uh' sound in it. D-uh-th."

"Joanne, who is the actress here? I know how to say my lines. D-ah-th is the correct way.

"No, it isn't. Maureen, I know what I'm talking about! The mispronunciation of that word has always been an annoyance for me. Doth is not that difficult of a word…but people insist to say dah…dahh…"she gulped before whispering "dahth." Joanne cleared her throat. "Honeybear, Trust me, alright. The word is doth."

"Joanne, I think I know more than you in this case. You may have taken classes, but I got the part. The word is dahth."

"Doth."

"Dahth."

"Doth."

"Dahth."

"Doth."

"Dahth."

"DOTH!" Joanne shouted, red-faced and fuming. "For crying out loud, Maureen! The effing word is DOTH!"

"I'm going to prove to you I know what I'm talking about, Joanne. Until my production opens, I am going to speak in Old English; until you cede that I am correct in my pronunciation."

"Because, that is going to solve our problem? You speaking in Old English is just going to make it worse. Especially if you pronounce other words as incorrectly as you pronounce 'doth'."

"I have done with thee; do not make speak with me."

"Make speak with you? Maureen, that isn't correct either. Shakespeare isn't all that different from modern Eng--"

I did tell-eth thee not to make speak with me. Hie you hence."

"Maureen, really! This is not the way to go abo--"

"HIE YOU HENCE! Your presence dahth grow tedious."

"Fuck."

And to top it off, during this chaos, Joanne had burnt her cookies.

-------------------

A/N:

So, a new direction with this, but hopefully you enjoy it. Reviews are marvelous, so please make that little periwinkle button your (and my) best friend. Thanks!


	3. Too Chic for Shakespeare

Maureen's New Job

By: Ethiwen

Disclaimer: Still don't own RENT or the characters of said show. It all belongs to the late (and great!) Jonathon Larson. Twelfth Night belongs to Shakespeare.

Summary: Tales of Maureen's new endeavor into Shakespeare.

Ships: MoJo

Warnings: Lesbians--If you have a problem with it your reading the wrong fanfiction…actually, you'd be in the wrong fandom. It's canon!

A couple OC actors and a director…if that bothers you… Don't worry they will not get with either of our favorite -cough- 'sisters'.

Spoilers: Maureen loves Joanne, Joanne loves Maureen. Not a rocky relationship fic. Probably won't mention any other characters at all.

Author's Notes: Last Chapter! Hooray! And then on to more fanfiction!

For the record, this is also an educational fic. You see, most people mispronounce the simple word 'doth'. No, the 'o' is not pronounced as in 'blonde' or 'long' but rather an 'o' sound as in 'shove' or 'continue'.

Thanks go out to the Maureen to my Joanne, Amanda, who inspired this fic.

And thanks to all of the people who have continued to review this and check for updates. It is -finally- done.

-------------------

Chapter 3: Too Chic for Shakespeare

-------------------

"Joanne, do pass the milk of cow, for I do parcheth."

How long was this going to go on!? It had been a week to the day since Maureen had decided to adopt Shakespearean as her language of choice. Unfortunately it was just as bad as the first day.

Joanne silently passed the milk across the breakfast table, subdued and resigned to the fact that her obstinate girlfriend would not listen to her corrections.

"Pookie…eth. I must goeth to rehearsal at midday."

Rehearsal? Maureen had rehearsal?!? Thank goodness! For a few blissful hours she would be saved! Joanne smiled at the hope of a small piece of salvation, and the hope that the director may correct her when she was at reh--wait! That was it! Joanne only had to be at rehearsal when the director corrected Maureen. She had found a permanent solution! She was saved.

She cleared her throat. "Maureen, do you happen to need a ride to rehearsal? I'd love to stop by and watch you rehearse for a bit before I head to work." Joanne had a late shift that night, just a meeting with a client at four. She could spare a couple of hours.

"Pookie-eth! I would be most pleaséd with that decisioneth! That dahth excite me much."

Joanne cringed, but forced a grin. "Me too, Mo. Me too."

-------------------

Joanne sat in the front row of theatre, not wanting to miss a thing that happened when Mo was corrected.

"All right," the director started. "This is a professional production. I told you to be off books, so if I see a script, you're out. There are thousands of out of work actors and actresses in this city," he clapped his hands together. "You can be replaced." Then he grinned. "So I thought we'd start with the Fool's scene with Olivia…'cause that's the easiest to block. Sooo…on the stage we go."

Maureen and a black-haired boy went on the stage.

"Where do you want us, Mr. Karlan?" The boy asked.

"Ohhh…Alex… you're standing Center, actually... Malvolio you're up there as well and Olivia's Men…. Maureen?"

"Yes, Mr. K?"

"You come on from up-stage-left, through the door to your house, followed by Malvolio and attendants. You are going to cross in front of him and head downstage right to the exit. Malvolio--Thomas, will follow you, but the attendants will seize the fool and try to drag him back out up-stage-left. Olivia stops to listen to him, and does not exit, but crosses back closer to him. The fool struggles against his captors until it is clear that Olivia is appeasing him…then he will be released, by a motioning from Maureen. Got it?"

A chorus of assent from the actors.

"Good. Begin when you are ready."

Maureen and her attendants exited the stage, and came right back on, this time in character.

((Olivia/Maureen))

"Take the fool away."

((Fool))

"Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady."

((Olivia/Maureen))

"Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you:

besides, you grow dishonest."

((Fool))

"Two faults, Madonna, that drink and good counsel

will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is

the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend

himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if

he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing

that's mended is but patched: virtue that

transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that

amends is but patched with virtue. If that this

simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not,

what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but

calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take

away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away."

((Olivia/Maureen))

"Sir, I bade them take away you."

((Fool))

"Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non

facit monachum; that's as much to say as I wear not

motley in my brain. Good Madonna, give me leave to

prove you a fool."

((Olivia/Maureen))

"Can you do it?"

((Fool))

"Dexterously, good Madonna."

((Olivia/Maureen))

Make your proof.

((Fool))

"I must catechize you for it, Madonna: good my mouse

of virtue, answer me."

((Olivia/Maureen))

"Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof."

((Fool))

"Good Madonna, why mournest thou?"

((Olivia/Maureen))

"Good fool, for my brother's death."

((Fool))

"I think his soul is in hell, Madonna."

((Olivia/Maureen))

"I know his soul is in heaven, fool."

((Fool))

"The more fool, Madonna, to mourn for your brother's

soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen."

((Olivia/Maureen))

"What think you of this fool, Malvolio? Dahth he not mend?"

((Malvolio))

"Yes and--"

"Hold on," Mr. Karlan said. "Maureen would you repeat your last line for me?"

"What think you of this fool, Malvolio? Dahth he not mend?"

"The pronunciation is 'doth'. With an 'uh' sound. Moving on."

"What think you of this fool, Malvolio? Doth he not mend?" Maureen said, catching eye contact with Joanne.

Joanne simply smiled.

-------------------

"So, I don't think that Karlan guy knows what he's talking about," Maureen said nonchalantly.

"He seems like a very capable director to me," Joanne shrugged.

"I don't think so," she put on her sunglasses. "I'm too chic for Shakespeare anyway. Maybe I won't finish."

"Maureen!"

"What?"

"Since when are you a quitter? You were so excited about this! You can't quit because of one little mistake!"

"But I need to be perfect!" Maureen shouted, before regaining control.

"I need to be perfect," she whispered again.

Joanne drew the drama queen into an embrace. "Maureen?"

"Yeah?" the diva answered, muffled with her face pressed against her lover.

"I love you…flaws and all. You're perfect to me, just the way you are."

"Really?" Maureen lifted her head to look at her girlfriend.

"Really. Mo, Shakespeare is not going to beat you…not if you don't let him. Besides, he is kind of…well…dead."

Maureen giggled. "I guess you're right. I'll finish…if you'll help me. Will you…do you think we could try again?"

"Sure, Honeybear. We'll try again."  
-------------------

A/N: So that's it folks. Thanks for staying with this.


End file.
